I love the border. I really do. The border is not as easy space, and can be a place filled with hardship and turmoil, but as a photographer, for some reason, I’m drawn to these type places. I’m intrigued by human transition, migration, and the mixing and mashing of cultures.
I love Mexico, which is partly to blame. I’ve only explored a tiny percentage of the country, but each time I go I find something new, something different, something interesting with the heart of the matter being the Mexican people.
Visceral is life in much of Latin America, at least in the parts I have walked, and the history can be felt in the stones under your feet and the languages around you. Sometimes I think about moving there, or about just walking out the front door of my house, Leica in hand (the one I don’t have yet) and disappearing for an unknown amount of time.
These images are from various times over the years. The top image stems from a protest along the border during a political convention held in San Diego. The middle picture from a shoot from last year, and the final image, one that I like as much today as when I shot it many, many years ago, was from my first trip to the border, roughly from 1990, when I made my way to El Paso/Juarez area to see for myself what was happening.
This picture was made in downtown El Paso, as people crossing illegally ran through the streets of the city. At the time I had little knowledge of what was happening, so seeing this in the middle of the day, with cops and Border Patrol scrambling to catch up, was an awakening, and all the experience I needed to know I wanted to go further, and spend more time in this area.
Now I find myself looking south, wondering what will happen with our neighbors, as the narco-war rages and once again the innocents are caught in the middle. I know that before long I will once again head south and see what I can see.